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Showing posts from September, 2015

After The Summer Storm (From the Wheelhouse Door 2015)

I had slept soundly through the stormy night despite the deluge and we had been encouraged by the number pf people who visited Shemaron during the festival. When we left Tarbert the harbour was shinning like glass, we paused in the still water close to the spot where the Fairlie built ringer Golden West used to anchor. Our crew Alan and Bob Colquhoun took a quiet moment to remember their father, the late Bob Colquhoun, skipper and owner of the Golden West. 
Once out of the harbour we turned towards Arran with the sea on an easy ride, behind us the sea and sky met in a blur of grey, it wasn’t difficult to surmise that it was raining further up Loch Fyne. Ahead the sky changed from dark grey to white and sometimes to blue, this was easily the preferred direction of travel. The wind had an edge of winter to it, a trait that had dominated our excursion. Every now and again a gannet flew by, bright white against the grey backdrop of sky or the low slung hills of Skipness. I stood port side …